Triple Cream Dream

The DC food media love to hype up new restaurants to the point of extreme oversaturation. And when that happens, our inclination is avoid the subjects of such abundance praise.

Of course, there are exceptions.

While AC scoffed at the notion of trying out the new outpost of California-based Cowgirl Creamery after weeks of incessant hype, I was intrigued and went there with a friend.

I love cheese, and because I know very little about all the varieties, I went into this shopping excursion with an extremely open mind and pretty much ready to buy anything the proprietors said I might like.

Upon walking in, I was already intrigued by a few wrapped wedges of cheese, jarred preserves and jams, and lovely varieties of crackers, olive oil, and other cheese companions placed near the front counter.

But the real action was taking place in the back, where a couple of women, dressed in their chef gear, were offering tastes of just about anything, and ringing things up like mad. At one counter, one of the cheesemongers enthusiastically offered, “would you like to try our homemade cottage cheese?!”

Normally, I would make the throw-up pantomime when the words “cottage cheese” are uttered. Thanks to a few college friends who would pile a generous scoop of it on top of canned peaches or Jell-O as part at the dining hall, my opinion of cottage cheese has always been rather low. Plus I never liked the texture and tanginess of it. But again, with an open mind, I tried it, and it was insanely creamy and only had a slight bit of tang. This stuff would KILL in a lasagna.

Interest piqued, I moved over to where several customers were hovering over massive wedges and wheels of cheese. I decided that I didn’t want something so novel that I wouldn't be able to eat it in large quantities. I enjoy the bries and the camemberts and the blues indiscriminately, so I wanted something accessible like my favorites, but also something with a different flavor or texture. I explained my needs to the cheesemonger, and she replied, “Oh, you’ll want our Mt. Tam; it’s our signature cheese, and it’s a triple cream.” Well, I am down for anything that is “signature.” To me, that means “nothing tastes quite like it because we make it right here.” I tried some, and after it instantaneously melted in my mouth (think brie without the pungent taste and way way creamier—just a clean, fresh, cheese), I picked up a wedge. Even the once-skeptical AC said it was the best cheese he'd ever tasted, and he reserves such superlatives for very special situations.

I also wanted something made with raw cow’s milk. Why? I don’t know, it just sounded like a good idea at the time, so I bought some Constant Bliss purely on the nice lady's recommendation. Constant Bliss, which is from a farm in the Pacific Northwest somewhere, is a bit firmer than the Mt. Tan, tastes a tiny bit sharp, but was also very creamy and fresh. Both cheeses paired nicely with the Mitica Fig Jam I picked up.

Check out Cowgirl Creamery:

919 F Street NW
Washington, DC
(202) 393-6880